Balenciaga Crack Pipe

I was coming up around Louisville

Wired out and wired up.

Just myself and I and a fragmented Mind.

I-65 looked cold and lonely,

Grey and barren,

Lost travelers fading in and out of sight

Evanescing dreamers perhaps

Losing their way in the

Staggered, illumination of tail lights

And the blinding reflections of exits untaken.

I let myself drift off into the interstate sounds,

Engines revving and purring

And the soft steady sounds of a Carolina boy

Seeping in and out of an amped up stereo.

I lit a smoke and gave in to the fuckery of my brain.

I could feel State Jail 84f approaching.

A mechanical mess of sabotage and fear.

I'd caught the white line fever and

I'd ran.

Ran away from things I loved,

From things I hated...

But most of all, I was running from me.

I'd Monsterflipped in some suburb in Franklin.

Sat down on the sidewalk and watched the stars fall out of the sky.

It was like an astral shower of everything that was wrong and everything that was right in my world.

It all rained down around me.

There were moments of amusement and moments of pain

And there were moments that I wished you were beside me.

So distant now

That it's hard to remember.

Four hours and a lifetime ago, I think.

The amphetamine dilemma solved itself

And I headed out.

Or headed home or something akin to home.

There was this farm out in Jefferson.

Roads and fields I'd known in my youth.

I was looking for safety and shelter and

The me before the Moloko Plus had taken hold.

I'd taken the turns without knowing

Right, right, left.

Dilated eyes fighting with the chaos within.

I reached for for the pipe,

Just to take off the edge

I was still choked on the bud

When my high beams hit the drive.

That wrap around porch,

The hangar to to the the left.

I could smell the rolled hay

Dancing in and out of my Nashville green

I fell back. Smooth leather embraced me.

And suddenly...it didn't matter where I'd been, it didn't matter what I'd done...

It didn't matter who I was now.

I was suddenly Junior League dreams and English jumpers.

Just a fading photograph of a life once lived.